


An Arbitrary Date, Really

by Starkvenger



Series: Half-Life VR But The AI Have Fanfiction [3]
Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half-Life VR but the AI is Self-Aware - Fandom
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Party, Birthday Presents, Black Mesa (Half-Life), Boomer - Freeform, Danger Pee Paws, Everyone is in a game still, False Memories, Fluff and Angst, Grumpy Old Men, I'm Sorry, Kinda?, M/M, Married Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life), Memories, Moral Dilemmas, Morality, More Like Mortality Dilemmas, Orphan Bubby, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Science Team As Family, Slice of Life, Stars, Team as Family, Video & Computer Games, Video Game Mechanics, no beta we die like coomer clones, star-gazing, test tube baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27278812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starkvenger/pseuds/Starkvenger
Summary: It's Bubby's birthday! Or, well, it's the date that he and Dr. Coomer decided that they'd celebrate as his 'birthday' since how he came into existence was fairly messy and complicated.Doesn't mean they can't celebrate though!
Relationships: Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life)
Series: Half-Life VR But The AI Have Fanfiction [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1892632
Comments: 12
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea while talking to someone on discord and it spiraled. 
> 
> Enjoy!

\- - -

What constitutes being born?

Do you need a mother?

A father?

Both?

Neither?

Birth isn't something inherently _human_ but rather something inherent to being _alive_ , in a sense.

A plant is born from the pod of a seed, a calf from the womb of a cow, a human much the same- but... Bubby hadn't come from a womb. He'd never had a mother or father, just the cold, calculating gazes of the scientists that engineered him; that made him, built him to work alongside them.

Were _they_ his parents, then? From what he'd been told, most parents held at least a modicum of affection towards their spawn... but the scientists at Black Mesa didn't see him as their spawn. They saw him as another project, another item on a checklist, another experiment that, if successful, they could add to their resume.

_'Created Human Life'._ Check.

_Was_ he human, though? What did it mean to _be_ human? Did he even qualify? Sure, he looked the part- sounded the part, dressed the part- but there was this constant voice in the back of his mind whispering dark thoughts to him, telling him that he wasn't.

He wasn't _really_ human.

He wasn't _real_. 

But... he felt real. He felt pain, emotions, had complex thoughts and ideas- he had to be real. He was as real as Dr. Coomer with his strange verbal ticks, or his quiet protege Gordon, or- or _any_ of those snobby, cold scientists that made him. They were real... so he had to be too.

Right?

\- - -

Bubby woke slowly- he always had, since as soon as the scientists around him were made aware that he was awake he would be put to work or have tests run on him. He opened his eyes with a deep breath in through his nose, blinking up at the dark ceiling before turning over in bed and stretching a boney arm outward into the darkness, blindly grappling for something in the empty space beside him on the bed. 

He groaned into his pillow when he found nobody there, only the faint imprint of a man and his rapidly cooling sheets. Bubby took a deep breath as he pressed his face further into the plush material of his pillow before turning over in bed and starting up at the ceiling once more. 

Harold must have already been up and moving about- he'd always (unfortunately) been an early riser, which meant he was usually gone by the time Bubby woke up in the morning. 

It still felt strange to think that they had a "usually" in the first place, considering, well, _everything_. 

From escaping Black Mesa alive to battling that idiotic security guard to finding out that his entire existence was chucked up to simple lines of code within a game from twenty years ago (according to Gordon) it was a wonder Bubby hadn't snapped yet.

Sure, maybe part of that was because he had Dr. Coomer at his side, there to reassure him whenever his thoughts betrayed him and doubt sunk its claws into his mind, but...

Could you really blame him?

With a long-suffering sigh, Bubby pushed himself up into a sitting position, yawning as he scratched absently at the back of his head. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, slipping his feet into the fuzzy slippers Harold had gotten him for Christmas last year. 

Wait... It's been nearly a year since they'd moved into this new game, huh? Christ...how times flies. 

He shook the thought from his head before it could make his thoughts spiral- thinking too hard on his assistance often had him heading down a dark tunnel that ended with him trembling in Dr. Coomer's arms, and he really didn't want to start the day like that. He stood with a sigh, rubbing the sleep from his eye with the base of his palm.

He took a deep breath and noticed the faint smell of burnt food in the air. He furrowed his brow at the scent, nose wrinkling at it before taking a look around the room. If there was smoke, it wouldn't be setting off the fire alarms- they'd long since been deactivated by the pair because of Bubby's tendency to set things (or himself) on fire.

He shook his head at the thought that Harold must have been attempting to cook something- something he was NOT good at. If he thought about it hard enough, Bubby could reason that it probably wasn't in the old man's coding, but, again, he really didn't want to go down that rabbit hole right now.

Though, he couldn't help but be reminded of Coomer's helplessness when it came to just about any kind of food he tried to cook.

_"Come now, Professor, it's a simple casserole! Surely it can't be that difficult to prepare," Dr. Coomer said with a wide smile, standing just behind the taller man and struggling to see over his shoulder as Bubby tried to salvage the scientist's meal._

_He'd shoved the food into the break room microwave and set the time for a whopping 10 minutes, most definitely ignoring the instructions on the box (as Dr. Coomer tended to do). "Doctor, and it's a simple casserole that was only **supposed** to be in there for **3** minutes, Dr. Coomer," he replied, scraping a plastic fork along the charred remains of what should have been a delicious tuna casserole dish. _

_Instead, what sat sadly in front of him on the counter and stunk up the entire breakroom with the smell of burnt fish was something entirely inedible._

_Bubby sighed and shook his head, picking up the plastic dish and tossing it into the trashcan. Dr. Coomer furrowed his brow, glancing between the taller man and the dish he'd thrown into the garbage. "That's very rude, Professor. Now what will I eat?" he asked, a confused smile still on his face._

_Christ, why was this guy always smiling? He'd only known Coomer for about a month and a half, but he always seemed to be in a good mood, even when things went terribly wrong. What was wrong with him?_

_"You can share my lunch. It's just a sandwich, but it's better than that blackened mess," he replied, wiping his hands off on a discarded towel that sat on the counter. Sure, if was just one of the sandwiches he'd gotten from the vending machines since it was one of the only things the scientists in this God-forsaken place would let him eat, but it was better than nothing._

_"Oh, that sounds lovely! Nothing like sharing a meal with friends!" Dr. Coomer replied brightly, giving the taller man a wide grin._

_Friends? Were they friends? He barely knew this guy, could count the number of times they'd talked in-depth on both hands... did that make them friends?_

_Bubby blinked, ignoring the way those words made his heart skip a beat. "R-right," he said, clearing his throat before gesturing towards the exit. "C'mon then. Smells like shit in here."_

The old man blinked, shaking the memory from his head and bringing a hand up to his eyes to rub them. He'd better get downstairs before Harold set the kitchen on fire. 

\- - -

Bubby clambered down the stairs slowly, his hand running along the aging wood as he took the steps two at a time. He rounded the corner and furrowed his brow as the smell of burnt food got stronger.

Just what the hell was Harold trying to make?

He came into the kitchen and suppressed a yawn at the sight of Dr. Coomer standing in front of the stove with an apron on over his sweater vest and khakis. The frying pan in which he was attempting to make...were those pancakes? was smoking, and he was attempting to wave it away with a dishtowel.

Bubby couldn't help but grin and shake his head at the man- helpless as always. He cleared his throat as he leaned against the door frame, raising a brow when Harold jumped and turned ono his heel to stare wide-eyed at the taller scientist. 

"Oh! Hello, Bubby!" he said cheerfully, showing off the splatters of pancake batter that covered his face and apron. "I was just preparing breakfast!" he continued, turning back to his pancakes and grabbing the spatula that had been abandoned on the counter and pulling the dark brown circles off of the skillet. 

Bubby shook his head with a grin at the shorter man, moving towards the coffee maker and turning it on. They had a habit of refilling the machine just after they used it so that all they had to do in the morning was press a button-- Bubby was grateful for it. 

He watched as the machine hummed and whirred before it began to drip a dark liquid into the pitcher, his eyes glued to the steady drip as the smell of burnt food invaded his nose. It wasn't a particularly bad smell- (it was one he was used to, anyway) but he glanced back towards Harold nonetheless.

"I usually do that. You know you're terrible at it," he said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Harold struggle with the stack of dark brown pancakes. "Here," he said, taking the plate from him and carrying it to the dining table. 

"Well, yes, but today's a special occasion, so I thought I'd give it a good old college try!" Dr. Coomer replied as cheerfully as ever as he pulled the eggs out. Yeah...Bubby should probably intervene now if he didn't want crunchy eggs again.

"Really? What's the occasion?" Bubby asked, moving back into the kitchen fully and bumping the shorter scientist with his hip so he could take over. Harold furrowed his brow and smacked him gently with the spatula in his hand, but relented nonetheless.

"What kind of a question is that, Professor? It's your birthday, of course!"

Bubby groaned internally. Right... _birthdays_. He'd sort of forgotten those were a thing- it wasn't like he really had one, being an experiment and all, so today was an arbitrary date that he and Dr. Coomer had decided they (and by they he meant Dr. Coomer because Bubby couldn't really care less) would celebrate his creation.

His 'birth'.

" _Doctor_... and so nothing important then," he said with a smirk, glancing back at Harold to find him taking the coffee pot off of the machine and pouring the drink into a pair of mugs. He waited for the tell-tale sounds of Harold sputtering and got it as the man stirred a boat-load of sugar into his own coffee.

"It's important to _me!"_ he argued, bringing the pair of mugs back to the other side of the room and setting Bubby's black coffee down beside him. "Gives me a day I can celebrate you and you can't argue with me," he said with a grin, setting his own mug down on the counter and digging around in the fridge for some creamer.

"I just don't see the _point_ ," Bubby replied, prodding at the edges of Dr. Coomer's fried eggs with the tip of the spatula he'd stolen from the man. "It's just some- some self-centered celebration of someone managing to survive for another year," he said, pulling the egg off the skillet and sliding it onto a plate. "Besides, it..."

"It...feels like a celebration of _their_ accomplishments...not anything to do with me," he grumbled, cracking another pair of eggs directly into the skillet before scrambling them. 

He could feel Harold's gaze on him- he was probably giving him that 'disappointed in your situation' look with those damn green eyes of his. He scoffed, muttering to himself as he tossed the eggs around in the skillet with the spatula.

He felt large arms slowly snake their way around his midsection, causing him to tense for a moment before he instinctively relaxed into the touch. One glance down and he'd find Dr. Coomer hugging him gently, his face buried in Bubby's back as he stood behind him.

His muttering died with a long-winded sigh, causing Harold to chuckle behind him. He let go slowly, moving to lean against the counter beside the stove. The shorter man took a sip of his coffee before speaking.

"It has _everything_ to do with you, Bubby. Sure, those bastards may have created you, but we chose this very date because it was special to _you_ , remember?" he asked, cupping his mug with both hands as he looked up at the skinny old man beside him.

This- this was true. Bubby could remember that day like it was yesterday. It was one of the few times he'd ever actually felt _happy_ in Black Mesa. 

_BU-3Y swayed on his feet as the large tube he'd been relished to for all this time slowly drained of fluid. His legs were shaky as he struggled to stay standing, watching tiredly as the man who he'd seen a handful of times in the lab before quickly typed at the console._

_He slumped against the side of the tube, skin pressing against the cold glass as the tube was fully drained. He kept his eyes on the curly-haired man- Dr. Harold Coomer, the man that had frequently been visiting him for the past three months in secret, spending time talking to him and telling him stories. He was fairly certain the man was from the sanitation department, so BU-3Y wasn't exactly sure if he knew what he was doing as he typed away on the console._

_"I've been watching the security footage of this room on loop in preparation for this moment," Dr. Coomer said as he continued to dance around the console, flicking levers and spinning dials. "I've watched them drain this tube plenty of times by this point."_

_They'd only drained the tube twice before- once to test the experiment's motor skills and once to fix an imperfection in the glass. How many times had this man watched the security footage of those two times? BU-3Y pressed his hands up against the glass both in an attempt to steady himself and an attempt to get a better look at the stocky man._

_He watched as Dr. Coomer glanced back at him with a warm grin, one that made the skin around his bright green eyes crinkle with mirth. "We'll have you out of there in two shakes of a lamb's tail!" he said happily before shoving his fist down onto a large red button._

_He tensed as the glass beneath his fingertips started to move, causing his eyes to widen. He stumbled backward slightly, glancing around him as the glass prison that he'd spent so long in was lifted up by the bulky machine that fastened it there and moved out of his way._

_Dr. Coomer watched it move with a wide grin, his hands folded in front of him as he bounced on his heels. Once it was gone, BU-3Y took a hesitant step forward, shaking the liquid from his ashy hair. Sure, Dr. Coomer may have been nothing but nice to him, but everyone had an ulterior motive...at least, that's what he'd been told._

_The shorter man suddenly thrust out his hand, causing the prototype to tense. "I don't think we've been formally introduced. My name is Harold Coomer. What's yours?" he asked as if this were his first time seeing the experiment. BU-3Y furrowed his brow in confusion, glancing down at the outstretched hand before looking back at Dr. Coomer's eyes as fluid dripped off the end of his nose._

_The ginger-haired man's gaze softened. "You don't have one, do you?" he asked slowly, tilting his head to the side as he spoke. A glance towards the now empty tank and Dr. Coomer was lighting up with joy. "Well, why don't we call you...Bubby, then?" he asked, gesturing to the ID label on the taller man's tube. "Better than BU-3Y, I'd say," he said with a grin, reaching out further and taking BU-- Bubby's hand and shaking it._

_"Bubby..." he mimicked softly, blinking down at the man as he excitedly shook his hand. He...liked it. It fit him, in a way. Not to mention how happy it made Dr. Coomer and the way it made his stomach twist to see the man so happy. He blinked when Dr. Coomer let go of his hand, furrowing his brow at the strange sense of loss that washed over him when the shorter man's calloused hands left his._

_"Well, Bubby, I have a question for you," Dr. Coomer said, pulling Bubby from his own thoughts._

_"W-what is it?" Bubby replied, his voice hoarse. He barely ever got the chance to speak- most of the scientists didn't want to hear what he had to say, so he'd spent a lot of time just sitting there, being quiet._

_"Do you know what stars are?"_

\- - -


	2. Chapter 2

\- - -

**_"Do you know what stars are?"_ **

_\- - -_

_Bubby struggled to keep up with the excited shorter man as he practically dragged him through the halls of Black Mesa._

_They ducked around corners in order to stay out of the gaze of the security guards, maneuvered past slumbering scientists who fell asleep at their desks, and worked their way towards...well, wherever Dr. Coomer was taking him._

_"What's so special about the stars?" Bubby asked in a hushed tone as they waited for a pair of guards to walk past. Dr. Coomer peered around the corner before grabbing Bubby's hand and tugging him along quickly- he ignored the pounding feeling in his chest and followed the man blindly._

_"I mean, they're just big balls of flaming gas in the sky. What's your fascination with them?"_

_"You'll see, Bubby!" Dr. Coomer replied excitedly, turning to walk backward as he spoke to the taller man. He came to a stop in front of a pair of large, unmarked metal doors, grin still on his face as he took hold of Bubby's hands._

_"Have you ever **seen** the stars, Bubby?" he asked slowly, searching for something in the taller man's pale blue eyes. _

_Bubby blinked. "I... of course I have. I've seen the charts, and the telescopic images of what they look like up close- big balls of fire, nothing more."_

_Coomer's smile turned sad briefly before he caressed the thinner man's hands with his thumbs. He dropped his gaze for a moment before his smile widened to its usual size. He grinned up at Bubby, giving his hands a squeeze._

_"Come on then."_

_Dr. Coomer leaned back, pressing up against the double doors and shoving them open. Bubby blinked at the man but followed him into the odd not-darkness. It was dark, sure, but it was nothing like the darkness of a lab._

_He took a couple of steps forward, the large doors closing behind him and shutting out the light. All at once, the world around him exploded into a brilliant glow, cosmic clouds swirling in various pinks and purples and blues, collecting around the stars that were scattered across the sky._

_Bubby's eyes widened at the sight, his breath hitching in his throat as he stared openly. This- this was nothing like the images and charts he'd seen on monitors and clipboards. This was radiant, colorful...and absolutely **electrifying**._

_"I..." he breathed, swallowing thickly as he kept his eyes glued to the sky. He barely registered that he was outside in the first place, something he'd never been allowed before, as the stars above him enraptured him completely._

_Dr. Coomer grinned, tilting his head as he glanced from the array of scattered stars to the taller man's pale eyes. "I thought you might like them," he said before slipping a hand into Bubby's. "This way- I know a spot where the vantage point is better," he said, tugging Bubby along as he kept his head up._

_The taller man watched as Dr. Coomer heaved himself up onto a barrel and climbed onto a shipping container that the construction crew doing renovations must have never thought to remove before glancing back down at Bubby. "Are you coming?"_

_The experiment was already on the move, however, mimicking Coomer's movements and climbing up after him. "Of course I am," he replied with a grin and a roll of his eyes._

_\- - -_

_Bubby laid down beside Dr. Coomer, his back pressed against the gravel that covered the roof. It was uncomfortable, sure, but the man next to him had an easy time distracting him. As of now, he was pointing up at the array of galaxies and planets, connecting them with an invisible thread as he spoke._

_**"The 48 traditional Western constellations are Greek. They are given in Aratus' work Phenomena and Ptolemy's Almagest, though their origin probably predates these works by several centuries..."** he recited, thought Bubby was only half paying attention. He glanced back up towards the stars, letting the shorter man's droning wash over him as he took everything in._

_"But what do you think, Bubby?" Dr. Coomer asked, shifting his view from the stars to Bubby, his arms acting as a pillow for his head. Bubby's own were resting on his stomach, but he glanced towards Dr. Coomer when he said his name._

_"Huh? About what?" he asked._

_The man simply chuckled, shaking his head. "About your birthday. My own is coming up in a month, and I suppose that yours could count as when you first gained awareness, but I think that you should have the liberty to choose if that better fits your prerogative."_

_Bubby furrowed his brow in confusion- birthdays? How had he gotten onto this subject? And why did it matter what his was?_

_"I..."_

_"Do you have a particular date you'd prefer?" Dr. Coomer asked, meeting Bubby's eyes. There went his heart again, skipping a beat. What was it with this man and causing his organs to dilate like that?_

_"What..." he cleared his throat, glancing back up at the sky. He hated the scientists that made him- all they did was poke and prod him, inject him with things and force him to attempt igniting things or give him simple equations. He didn't want his "birth" to be associated with **them**._

_"What day...is it today?" he asked, risking a glance towards the ginger-haired man. Dr. Coomer blinked, bringing a hand down to scratch at his face absently as he spoke. "The 14th. Why?"_

_"That's it then. The 14th. My birthday can be today."_

_Dr. Coomer lit up much like the sky above them._

_"Wonderful!"_

\- - -

Bubby grinned softly to himself, shaking the memories from his head. "I guess you're right," he said, picking up the pair of plates with eggs on them and carrying them to the dining room. Meanwhile, Harold grabbed both of their mugs and brought those into the room. 

He set Bubby's mug down in front of him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, something that caused the taller man to blush deeply and duck his head. Even after all this time, little things like that practically set him ablaze.

He sighed, bringing a hand up to his face and rub at his cheek before reaching out and grabbing his mug to take a drink from it.

"Gordon and the others should be over eventually," Harold said as he took a seat across the table from Bubby, reaching out to grab a pair of burnt pancakes off the top of the charred stack. "I thought we'd have a small get together- nothing fancy, since I know you don't care for the day, but something nonetheless," the man continued, content to sit i his chair and sip at his mug.

The lankier man hummed in response, working at cutting into the pancakes in front of him. "Whatever, just as long as Benry doesn't insist on playing stupid party games."

"I believe he said he was bringing his _Nintendo Switch Gaming System™️_ with him," Dr. Coomer said, tilting his head at Bubby as he ate. "Though I'm sure you'd be hard-pressed to find him without that nifty device."

"Hm."

The pair spent the next half hour enjoying the morning, eating and sipping their coffee as they chatted idly about everything and nothing at the dining room table. Bubby glanced down at his mug when he found it empty, raising a brow at it as if the item had personally offended him for not being endlessly full of liquid. 

"Would you like another cup, Dr. Bubby?" Harold asked as he stood, scooping up Bubby's empty plate out from in front of him and taking his own mug to the sink. 

"No, I'll be fine," he said, standing up with a stretch and a grunt. He took his own mug to the sink and turned on the faucet as Harold moved to grab the abandoned serving plate. The shorter man was interrupted by the sound of a doorbell, causing him to stand ram-rod straight and freeze in place. 

Bubby sighed, turning the faucet off and wiping his hands as he walked out of the kitchen and towards the front door. Gordon must have come into range enough to force Harold into _'NPC-mode'_ as they'd come to call it. He pulled open the door, interrupting a knock and giving the trio on his front porch an unimpressed look.

The distant clattering of a plate behind him to him that Harold had snapped out of it, confirmed by the shorter man placing a hand on his shoulder and greeting Gordon, Benry, and Tommy happily- well, greeting Gordon, at least.

**"Hello, Gordon!"**

"Hey, Dr. Coomer...uh, and happy birthday, Bubby," Gordon said, giving the older man a slightly nervous grin. Bubby simply rolled his eyes and left the front door open, heading back to the kitchen and grabbing the plate Harold had abandoned on his way. 

He set it in the sink and chose to leave it there, walking back out of the kitchen and leaning against the door frame as the rest of their merry band of misfits filed in through the front door. Gordon had a bright green gift bag in his hands that he set down gently on the coffee table, intriguing Bubby's inner scientist.

He wanted to see if he could guess what was inside without opening it-- a guilty pleasure of his if he were honest.

Benry, on the other hand, pulled out a slightly smaller box messily wrapped in newspaper from the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, tossing it half-hazardly onto the coffee table. Bubby was sure that whatever was in there was idiotic- no use guessing.

Tommy was busy talking to Harold, but must have come to some kind of conclusion if the way he brightened was anything to go by. He walked past the older man, gliding past Bubby as well as he made his way towards the dining table and set down the cake he'd been holding-- how had Bubby not noticed he'd been carrying that?

He narrowed his eyes at it, looking over the design that had been added to the cake. He couldn't stop the warmth that bloomed in his chest at the sight of a galaxy-like pattern covering the cake, glass-like icing complete with stars dotting the surface. The corner of his mouth turned up as Tommy pulled a single candle from inside his shirt pocket and stuck it into the center of the cake.

"There, perfect," the lanky man commented, glancing back towards Bubby. "Do- do you like it Dr. Bubby? Gordon and Benry were up all night watching Youtube videos and trying to figure out how to- to make it," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets as he rocked on his heels.

"The kitchen's a mess now..." he said tiredly, a slight whine in his voice, as if he knew he was going to be the one that had to clean it up. 

He probably was.

Bubby cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "It'll suffice," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Tommy smiled in return, grinning widely and patting him on the shoulder on his way towards the living room.

"I'll- I'll tell them you appreciate it then."

Bubby rolled his eyes but stayed quiet, simply watching Gordon and Benry argue over the collection of records that Bubby and Harold had accumulated since getting out of Black Mesa. Most of it wasn't anything he would listen to normally- they were, after all, simply songs Gordon had on his computer, but there were one or two records he could listen to without having to wonder just why their resident pseudo-god player would ever listen to music like that.

He shook his head when Benry licked a stripe up the surface of a record seemingly just to spite the taller man, causing Gordon to sputter and yank the object out of Benry's hands with a scowl.

Bubby glanced towards Harold, who was busy attempting to gather up the gifts the others had left on coffee table into his arms and take them into the dining room in one trip- Tommy was busy watching nervously from behind and offering his assistance- which Harold was vehemently denying.

Sunkist, because of course, Tommy had brought his dog with him, was busy laying on the floor behind the couch, wagging her tail and watching Harold and Tommy struggle, simply happy to be in the presence of the science team, it seemed.

Bubby would be lying to himself if the sight before him didn't make his chest tighten ever so slightly. Normally he would have attempted to push that feeling down, to quell it before it could fester in his mind and make him...feel things... but maybe Harold was right, this could be some kind of 'special' day. 

He could allow himself to feel this feeling...just for a moment. Just long enough to enjoy it, but not long enough that he was reveling in it. Scientists, especially perfect ones, didn't revel. 

He sighed when Gordon gave up on trying to take the records away from Benry, choosing instead to look through the crate chock full of them (though _why_ Bubby didn't understand). Seeing that their little 'game' was over and done with, Benry pulled out the device Coomer had mentioned before from his hoodie pocket, leaning up against Gordon's side as he fiddled with the joysticks.

Gordon ignored him- though he did shove back slightly in an attempt to dislodge him. Benry stayed where he was.

"Why don't we head to the kitchen, hm?" Harold asked as he finally managed to precariously gather up the gifts. Tommy managed to pluck his, a box wrapped in bright colored-wrapping paper, off the top and carry it himself, only to get a scowl from the older man when he set the other presents down on the table next to the cake. 

The rest of the group followed suit, with Harold guiding Bubby to his chair at the end of the table and forcing him to sit down. He rolled his eyes when everyone started singing happy birthday, choosing to, instead of smile awkwardly, cross his arms and slump in his chair. 

Once that torture was over Harold cut the cake- sure, it was sad to see the beautiful galaxy design get slashed into, but somehow the baffoons that made the cake figured out he liked strawberries and had packed the cake full of them. 

With the cake eaten and Benry getting more annoying with every minute that passed, Bubby decided to grab his gift and tear into it first. The former guard bounced on his feet excitedly as he watched Bubby tear open the newspaper-wrapped gift, furrowing his brow at the sight of a weird lump of cloth. 

He furrowed his brow at the sight of it, unrolling the black material and turning it around to reveal a PlayStation logo on the front. Bubby raised an eyebrow at the shirt before giving Benry an unimpressed look.

"Now you got gamer swag. Old uh- Boomer pogchamp," Benry said, grin on his face as his gaze dropped from the old man before him back to his game. Bubby simply rolled his eyes, setting the shirt aside and grabbing Tommy's gift. 

"Y-you can save that wrapping paper if you want, Dr. Bubby," Tomy said, causing Bubby to pause, glance down at the gift, and then look back up at Tommy.

Before setting the bright yellow paper ablaze. 

It burned away and he dusted off the cardboard box that remained, ignoring the pout he was currently getting from Tommy in favor of ripping open the box itself. He blinked at the sight of a model rocket- one very reminiscent of the one from Black Mesa. He huffed a chuckle and shook his head at the toy, picking it up and glancing at Tommy.

The lanky man was grinning ear to ear, and Bubby nodded in thanks. "A rocket," he commented, grinning down at it softly before setting it on the table beside the shirt.

Next was Gordon's gift, which was oddly small- like, the bag was only slightly bigger than his hand. He pulled out the tissue paper and tossed it aside, furrowing his brow as he dug out a set of keys. He glanced up towards Gordon for some kind of explanation. "You realize why I'm giving you this look, right?" he asked- Gordon knew he had a car already. What was this about?

"Yeah, I know, you got a Cadillac, dude. Those keys don't go to a car," Gordon replied, his hands in his pockets. 

Bubby rolled his eyes dramatically, dropping the useless keys back into the bag. "Then what's the point?" he asked.

"If you'd let me finish," Gordon started, shaking his own head with a grin. "I installed some mods in the game. Expansion packs and such. It added a beach, a race track, a whole town if you wanna explore that- thought I'd give you guys some room to stretch your legs and explore," he said, dropping his gaze slightly. 

Bubby blinked. Gordon had added onto the game for them? He glanced down at the keys, picking them up and turning them over in his hand before glancing back up towards their resident player. "They're house keys," Gordon explained, getting Benry to look up from his game finally. "To a beach house in the modded section of the game."

"I hate the beach, but I guess it's the thought that counts," Bubby replied, getting a snort from Gordon as he set the keys beside the other gifts. In truth, he was more excited about the possibility of somewhere new to drive to, somewhere new where he could go over the speed limit four times over and not a single person could do a thing about it.

"But thanks I guess. Whatever. You too, Tommy."

"There's one more," Harold said, causing Bubby to furrow his brow in confusion. Wait, had Harold-

The old man jogged over to the kitchen, opening up the cabinet under the sink and pulling out a long box wrapped in dark blue wrapping paper. Sneaky bastard. Dr. Coomer brought the box over and set it down in front of Bubby, watching him expectantly. 

"Go on then," Harold said with a grin. 

Bubby eyed the shorter man before pulling the top off the box, shaking his head at the fact that Harold hadn't even wrapped the gift correctly when he paused. He blinked at the sight before him, swallowing thickly as he took in the long, cylindrical object before him. Its silver body glinted in the light, Bubby's hand hovering over the cool metal that had a small engraving in the center of it. 

He traced his fingers over the _"H + B"_ engraved into the metal, swallowing thickly and picking the object up and lifting it out of the box.

"What's that thing?" Benry asked, tilting his head slightly and narrowing his eyes at the object.

Bubby rolled his eyes in response as Dr. Coomer moved the box out of the way and allowed Bubby to set it on the table gently. "It's a telescope," he replied, glancing towards the shorter man he shared a home with- shared a life with, as artificial as it may be.

"For like bacterias 'n stuff? Hey, wait I'm a virus, don't use that on me-" Benry said, taking a half step towards Gordon to hide behind him ever so slightly. 

"Berny, I can't even begin to explain just how wrong that sentence was," Gordon replied, shaking his head. "A telescope is for looking at the stars. You're thinking of a microscope."

"It's really nice-looking Dr. Bubby!" Tommy said happily, hands clasped together as he watched. 

"It is," Bubby replied, his eyes still glued to Coomer's. It was more than that though- it was a symbol, a memento of a bygone age, something to remind him of how this all started. Harold grinned wider, something seeming to click in his mind as he took a step forward and placed a soft kiss against Bubby's forehead.

"I'm glad you like it, dear," he said unprompted- Harold had always been good at reading him, understanding what he wanted to say but just couldn't sometimes. "We can use it this evening, if you like."

Bubby glanced back down at the large object in his hands, before looking towards the others. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before smirking towards the others. "Why don't you morons stay over? This is the kind of thing that you all should be a part of."

"So uh, so I can show you how god damn smart I am with all the constellations, of course," He added, sniffing and lifting his chin ever so slightly. Couldn't have them thinking he was soft, after all- they might get it into their heads that he actually _cared_ about them or something.

Gordon grinned, his eyes warm and knowing. "Sounds like fun."

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bubby can have a little happiness, as a treat. :)
> 
> Also YES, I AM implying that Gordon, Tommy, and Benry 'live' together. The three amigos have a house and three VERY differently decorated rooms. The kitchen is always a mess. Gordon's room is very plain because obviously, he doesn't sleep there, he's only there sometimes and the place acts as his spawn point for when he's in game.
> 
> anywho, whatcha think?

**Author's Note:**

> Any thoughts?


End file.
